I have been in writing mode for weeks now, and it is only for lack of a manuscript in front of me that I am bothering to post. There are two worlds I frequent, and this one of flesh and bone that lacks fantasy is often not my favorite. I am fortunate that the only true conflict in my life resides in my stories and that I am otherwise very happy, but at the same time, it is the daydream doom that keeps me coming back.
I believe it was sometime last week that I completed (at 80,000+ words) my latest novel, Off Limits. It was a very intense piece comprising of a relationship that I hadn't before ventured (step-cousins who live under the same roof and fall in love), and I'm thankful that it's been put to rest for the time being. I have been asked multiple times if I intend to publish this novel, and the answer is no. I do not write for the intent of publication—I write because writing is in my blood, and if I do not get the story out, I fear that is where my literal tragedy may begin.
Although finishing a novel can be quite draining, and I toiled over a (now what I deem obvious) title for much too long, there remained a fever biting at my fingertips. It is rare that I leave a novel incomplete, but I'd just started writing something new when I moved to ND more than a year ago, and left it sleeping at 30,000 words. I clearly remember posting about the story, which is intended to be the first in a YA series about witches, as I received some not-so-nice feedback about the content from someone who should have supported me unconditionally. Oh, the lessons we learn in life... I'd had many intentions for the plot, and most have come back to me 10,000 words later. I'm hoping to get another 20,000+ words out of this, and plan to leave it at a very nice cliffhanger. Will this book be published? Hell if I know, but that's not going to stop me from writing...